October 4, 2010

I wanna sock philosophers in their witchy, upturned noses. They're total know-it-alls just because they read a few boring books by old men. It's totally thrilling to hear them drone on about how reality is only a perception and that we could all just be a molecule on a giant's toe for all we know. (Not!)

I can't stand the way they talk slowly or how they wear drab clothes the color of Winnebago interiors. I also hate being in their apartments, with dusty books strewn everywhere and a week's worth of dirty dishes in the sink.

I even hate their music because it's usually something grating, like free jazz or experimental techno. Gross. Come on, be honest: Have you ever heard a philosopher sing along to Katy Perry? Or the motherfucking Beach Boys? The most you'll get is a head bob along to R.E.M. because they were huge R.E.M. fans in college, the last time their esoteric tastes merged with the mainstream.

I took a philosophy class in college and my instructor, a bumbling grad student named Chad, had a ponytail. I hated his ponytail and daydreamed about shearing it off. I couldn't tell any of the philosophers apart: I didn't know my Kierkegaard from Kant from my Nietzsche. Our final exam was to debate the philosophical implications of molecular reconstruction if one is ever beamed to another location on Star Trek. Seriously. That was my final exam. (And people wonder why a Liberal Arts degree is worthless.)

Ever since then, I can't take philosophers seriously. If a guy tells me that he's a philosophy grad student, I frown. They're like hippies, but with thicker soles on their footwear.

11
comments:

Aww, but they are so much fun to fuck with. Just gush about how Jack Handey is your favorite philosopher. If you can fake sincerity well enough, they'll give you a look like you just described how to field dress a puppy to a PETA advocate.

Thanks for the awesome post. I am grad school for religious studies, and I am surrounded by philosophers, historians, anthropologists, etc, and yes, their shoes have terribly thick soles and the clothes are the color of the interior of a Winnebago. I even started a blog about it: http://kehillamonster.blogspot.com/

Anyway, I love philosophers so long as it isn't their only thing, like secret philosophers. If they have some fun hobbies to balance it out, there tends not to be the Winnebago thing. There's nothing better than somebody who can follow a wonderfully depressing sentiment about the nature of life with an enthusiastic suggestion to do something completely silly, like have a crab walking race to the fridge for more beer. Without the silly side though, completely agreed.

Perhaps they do like to hear themselves talk, but at least philosophers have something of substance to talk about. I prefer conversation with a philosopher over snarkisms by a dim-witted douchebag any day.

Awww, well, I'm a philosopher and i sing along to Katy Perry! But I try not to mention it because the dudes who find philosophers sexy ... just like this. So. f'ing. annoying. I do not really want to talk about post-modern theory all day. Really. Sometimes I want to watch Glee and eat an entire bag of cheetos. But those dudes? Do not get it.